Stovetop Poppies
by thejapanesemapletree
Summary: "Whut is it dat keeps uh man from gettin' burnt on uh red-hot stove—caution or nature?" (-Zora Neale Hurtson, 'Their Eyes Were Watching God')


**A/N:** When you finally use a quote with vernacular from the original book 3

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"Whut is it dat keeps uh man from gettin' burnt on uh red-hot stove—caution or nature?"

(-Zora Neale Hurtson, 'Their Eyes Were Watching God')

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Kamuro looked up from the floor expectantly. He did not beg, but Tokugawa's expression firmed like he did—or maybe it was just the look he always got when Kamuro wanted something. Nevertheless, in the end, Tokugawa sighed through his nose, tossing back the blanket on his cot.

"Come here."

Although he probably should not have, Kamuro nestled under the covers next to Tokugawa, and put on egotistical airs at his successful persuasion that Tokugawa did not need to see his face to know about. Instead, he flicked off the light on the side table, casting the room in the odd orange glow from the streetlamps. Maybe slightly more protective in the dark, or feeling safe in the secrecy of its shadows, Tokugawa lied his arm over Kamuro and permitted him to snuggle close.

Contented, neither spoke, and neither really moved as they slept. They seemed to enjoy the warmth of being wrapped together, and perhaps would not have awoken until morning if Kamuro was not startled by a noise in the night. He jolted from sleep and found his face near Tokugawa's chest, close enough that his eyelashes fluttered against his shirt. He turned his face out minutely, warily, wondering if the sound was just a dream. When he heard something squeak across the floor, he clutched Tokugawa's arm over him and hissed.

 _"Tokugawa."_

He may have awoken immediately, but his reluctance to open his eyes was so evident that Kamuro could not have been sure. Kamuro tried to hold his composure and not sound scared for no reason.

"I think there's someone in your house."

In the dull light, Tokugawa's harsh expression did not change. He simply closed his eyes again and spoke in a voice low from lethargy.

"It is probably just Koharu."

Another sound: something against the floor. Kamuro shook Tokugawa's arm a bit, more urgent this time.

"Doesn't Koharu usually get you or Haruna to walk her to the kitchen or bathroom during the night?"

"Yes."

"You said Haruna was staying at a friend's house tonight."

Kamuro could see the wet glare of Tokugawa's eyes. He lifted himself up in bed, his mussed hair a dangerous thorn bush.

"If I go and check, will you let me go back to sleep?"

He was not exactly mean about it, but Kamuro still felt bad, and nodded meekly. Tokugawa had to step over the futon he prepped on the floor, and by the time Kamuro had the thought it would be bad to let Tokugawa go alone if there was an axe murder in the house, he was out the door and down the hallway. He did not find the need to turn on any lights and wake up the rest of the house on a journey he thought of as frivolous, so that left Kamuro alone with only the light from the street. He had no more than the blanket to protect himself if there really was a danger, and he pulled it up to his chin when he listened to a scuffle in the kitchen. One of the parties moved, and Kamuro heard them coming down the hallway, a chill gracing his spine. He moved aside a portion of the blanket and called out, the last syllable wavering.

"Tokugawa?"

They paused outside the doorway. Before Kamuro could think to speak again, or jump, the overhead light flicked on, and they came in the room.

Tokugawa had a look of displeasure akin to what a bride might have when she found the child bridesmaids charring her bouquet of red poppies over a gas stove. A large clover-white cat was cradled in his arms, and she watched Kamuro mischievously.

His answer came unimpressed:

"It was the cat."

Kamuro's cheeks bloomed hot like flowers in a forest fire. Tokugawa set the cat down, and she trotted to Kamuro's abandoned futon, making her nest with a few circles over the blanket. Tokugawa switched off the light and had to step over her, joining Kamuro who wormed to the other side of the bed in embarrassment. Tokugawa raised an eyebrow at the behavior.

"What's wrong?"

Kamuro turned away. He half-muttered over his shoulder, his failure still burning his face.

"I made you get up, and it was just the _cat."_

Tokugawa sighed loudly and pinched his forehead.

"Sometimes I think you are worse than Haruna," Tokugawa commented on his melodramatic sister. "It is not that big of a deal. I'm not mad at you or anything."

Still, Kamuro did not move away from the wall. Fed up with his sour attitude, Tokugawa went to him instead, making him flinch in surprise at the arm once again over him. Only this time, Tokugawa faced Kamuro's back. Ashamed as he felt, Kamuro did not have the heart to jerk away.

"Just go to sleep," Tokugawa groused behind him. "I'm not going to let anything hurt you."

Kamuro was lucky that he faced away and the dark hid his blush. He maybe wanted to protest—say he was a teenage boy and could take care of himself, or that he was just concerned for Tokugawa and his family—but Tokugawa's touch softened, and his breathing leveled out for sleep. Kamuro had to lie there for a moment and come to terms with his simmering rebuttals, and it merely ended with him deciding he was tired and needed to go back to sleep. He shifted his arm into a better position and exhaled a deep breath he did not know he had been holding.

He pretended not to notice Tokugawa pulling up the blanket over their shoulders.


End file.
